Dr. Attending (Midtown Memorial #4)

40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Weston

“ W here’s my phone?” Caroline asks, darting her eyes around my office.

I chuckle, looping an arm around her waist and tugging her close. “Right in front of you, princess.”

She grabs it from my desk, her face flushing as she huffs out a frustrated breath. “How did I not see that?”

I smirk but don’t say anything, leaning back as I watch her unlock the screen.

It's not surprising that she’s a little disheveled. I just spent the past hour distracting her with the only thing that seems to work effectively—pleasure.

After her makeshift interview, I helped her clean up before pulling her onto my lap to discuss the scene.While I had made plans for a kinky distraction this morning, I definitely didn’t expect it to go that far. I needed to make sure she was okay—that Worth’s surprise appearance at the start hadn’t thrown her for a loop. But Caroline, being Caroline, grinned wickedly and said she needed to explore all of her options before accepting my job offer . . . including interviewing with Dr. Daley.

“Fuck . . . Wes.” Her shoulders tense, and I feel her nails dig into my arm as she grips her phone like it might explode. “No . . . no. This can’t be happening. I thought I wouldn’t get them until next week.”

“What is it?” I ask as inconspicuously as I can.

Her chest rises and falls in nervous bursts as she swallows hard. “Step 1 results are out.”

I nod like this is news to me, even though I’ve been waiting for this moment. “Do you want to use my computer to check?”

She sucks her lower lip between her teeth, hesitating for a second. “What if—”

I run a calming hand up her thigh, my voice low and gentle because I know she’s about to freak out. “I’m here either way.”

Exactly as I planned to be.

I did a little digging into the organization that administers the exam, and it turns out that one of the guys on the board plays golf with my dad frequently at the club. All it took was one call to figure out what I wanted to know—the time and date that her results would be out.

Caroline grips the phone tighter, the screen lighting up as she scrolls through the email. I don’t say anything—I just hold her, steady and sure, as her breath hitches.

I feel her tremble slightly as she exhales.

“Okay,” she whispers to herself. “Okay.”

“You ready?” I ask softly.

She doesn’t answer, she simply leans forward and begins to type her login information into the computer.

I kiss the top of her shoulder, my voice steady against her ear. “You’ve got this, princess.”

***

“ A re you sure you don’t have work to do?”

Caroline is practically bouncing beside me, unable to contain her excitement as we head down the hallway to the main hospital.

I thought she was going to faint while she was waiting for the results of her board exam to load because she was holding her breath for what felt like forever. But the second the word “PASS” popped up, Caroline released a long exhale.

For half a heartbeat, she just stared at the screen, like she couldn’t believe it was real. Then she let out a relieved laugh and tackled me to the floor with a massive hug.

“I promise,” I say with a soft chuckle, squeezing her hand. “I canceled my clinic today. We just have to swing by the ortho lounge on our way out. I told Beau I would give him my trauma textbook.”

It’s a half-truth.

We do need to stop by the orthopedic surgery lounge, just not to give Beau the decoy textbook in my hands.

Caroline shoots me a playful side-eye.

“Such a giver,” she teases, strutting a few steps ahead of me before she stops in her tracks. “Wait . . . if you cancelled clinic, why was your backpack in the ER?”

My shoulders shrug, but I can’t stop my grin pulling at my lips. “Must have dropped it at some point.”

“Weston.” Caroline’s midnight-blue eyes narrow on me suspiciously as the wheels in her head start turning. “Did you have something to do with Morgan making me come to the hospital for her fake nausea?”

I take several steps forward, leaning in and lowering my voice so nobody passing by will hear what I’m about to say. “Did you really think I kept an inflatable ball gag in my office?”

Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink, but she doesn’t give me the satisfaction of a comeback right away.

I let the moment simmer, enjoying the way her mouth twitches—like she’s trying to decide whether to slap me or kiss me.

“Though,” I continue, straightening with a sly grin, “if you end up doing a residency here . . . maybe I’ll have to.”

I wink at her and start walking, knowing she’ll follow—my girl just can’t stop herself from having the final word.